1. A Stateside Cooking Experiment
Being stateside in preparation for les vacances (vacation), I thought I’d corral Elizabeth Karmel, who I’d had dinner with last spring when we did a special cooking event together, into grilling dinner for me. I know, it was a little forward, but Elizabeth was the chef/consultation to Hill Country Barbecue in Manhattan, which has the distinct honor of pleasing even true, hard-core bbq aficianados. She’s also written a couple of books on grilling, something I thought I knew a little about, but found out there was more to know during a warm summer evening in New York. It all started with a desire to elevate my grilling game, to move beyond the ‘slap it on the grill, turn it once, until it’s done’ method that I’d relied on for far too long. Let’s be honest, my approach had been, shall we say, a little haphazard, driven more by convenience than by any real understanding of heat, flavor, and technique. Growing up in California, grilling was often simply about marinating something – a steak, a chicken breast – and then quickly throwing it onto the grill, just long enough to get a bit of char. It wasn’t about developing layers of complex flavor, controlling the cooking process, or appreciating the nuances of different cuts of meat. I was, in essence, treating the grill as a rapid-fire cooking appliance, rather than a sophisticated culinary tool. This particular summer evening, though, presented an opportunity to challenge that ingrained habit. The idea of learning from someone with such a dedicated understanding of barbecue – someone who clearly poured years into perfecting the art – felt both intimidating and incredibly exciting. I envisioned a somewhat unconventional collaboration, a blend of my own casual grilling style and Elizabeth’s expertise. It wasn’t about completely abandoning my methods, but rather about incorporating her wisdom and refining my approach. Frankly, I’d been feeling a persistent itch to do better, to understand the ‘why’ behind the ‘how’ of grilling. It was about moving beyond simply producing edible food and towards creating truly memorable meals. The prospect of exploring different techniques, experimenting with flavors, and finally mastering the art of grilling felt like a genuine challenge – a chance to grow not just as a cook, but also as a food enthusiast. I was ready for a serious grilling transformation; and Elizabeth, it turned out, was the perfect guide. This simple desire to evolve my grilling techniques was the catalyst for what would ultimately become a fascinating and surprisingly insightful culinary experience, one that underscored the importance of respecting the fundamentals of cooking and the value of seeking knowledge from those who truly understand the craft. This trip to Manhattan and the planned grilling endeavor was meant to move beyond the ‘convenience grilling’ mindset that I’d previously been stuck in.
Seeking Culinary Wisdom from Elizabeth Karmel
I’d met Elizabeth years ago at a culinary conference in New York, a whirlwind of personalities and burgeoning talent. She gave me a silicone basting and grilling brush – something I’d been wary of, branding them as just another gadget, another potential source of frustration. I put it away in a drawer, a silent testament to my skepticism about anything that threatened to complicate a simple task. But, as it turned out, it was a brilliant move. Years later, facing a particularly frustrating battle with errant bristles stubbornly clinging to pie dough, I unearthed the brush. It was a revelation – a tool perfectly designed for the job, streamlining a process I’d previously struggled with. It felt like a belated acknowledgment of her initial wisdom, a quiet gratitude for the preventative measure I’d taken.
Elizabeth, who hails from North Carolina, kept talking about “indirect heat” – a concept utterly foreign to my Californian grilling sensibilities. I was used to the thrill of the immediate char, the satisfying crackle of the flames, the race to achieve that perfect, smoky crust. The idea of deliberately suppressing the direct heat, of coaxing the flavors slowly, felt almost counterintuitive. I’d always viewed grilling as a competition – a test of speed and technique, a race to deliver the most intensely flavored dish. Elizabeth’s approach was profoundly different, a measured, deliberate dance with the heat, an emphasis on building layers of complexity rather than seeking instant gratification.
She explained it with a patience that was both reassuring and slightly humbling. “Think of it like slow cooking, but on the grill,” she said, her voice brimming with conviction. “You’re not trying to burn the outside; you’re building the flavor from the inside out.” It was a shift in perspective that fundamentally altered my approach. I realized that grilling wasn’t just about achieving a high temperature; it was about understanding how heat interacts with food, about controlling that interaction with precision and care. It was about learning to listen to the food, to discern when it was ready, rather than simply relying on a timer. This concept was key to understanding the nuances of North Carolina cuisine, with its emphasis on slow-cooked meats and deeply flavored sauces – a far cry from the quick-cook grilling I’d previously embraced. This understanding ultimately led to more successful, and profoundly more delicious, results.
Moreover, Elizabeth imparted a deeper appreciation for the importance of browning, which I’d previously dismissed as simply a cosmetic effect. She explained that a good sear – achieved through careful temperature control and precise basting – was crucial for developing Maillard reaction products, the complex compounds responsible for those savory, aromatic flavors. “You want to develop those flavors before you start to burn,” she cautioned, demonstrating the technique with a small piece of chicken, meticulously searing it over medium heat before moving it to indirect heat. She wasn’t advocating for a scorched surface, but rather for a controlled caramelization that would infuse the meat with unparalleled richness and depth. This was a paradigm shift for me; I had focused on grilling as merely a way to cook food quickly, and Elizabeth showed me how to harness the full potential of the heat to maximize flavor.
Beyond the technical aspects, Elizabeth also emphasized the importance of patience and observation. “Trust the process,” she encouraged, “and don’t be afraid to adjust as you go.” She patiently explained how to monitor the internal temperature of the meat, demonstrating how a reliable instant-read thermometer could be a far more accurate indicator of doneness than simply relying on visual cues. Her guidance instilled a sense of confidence, encouraging me to experiment and refine my techniques. It wasn’t just about following a recipe; it was about developing a deeper understanding of the cooking process, a skill that would serve me well far beyond the confines of the grill. This initial teaching moment laid the groundwork for a more nuanced and rewarding approach to grilling, a testament to Elizabeth’s profound understanding of the craft.
The French Chicken Recipe: Julia Child’s Inspiration
When Elizabeth Karmel suggested she teach me how to grill, I was initially a little taken aback. I’m used to a certain… directness when it comes to grilling – a quick sear, a quick flip, and done. But then she presented me with the recipe for Poulet grillé à la diable, her adaptation of Julia Child’s Poulet grillé au diable, the diable (devil) referring to a hint of spice, and a lot of lively French Dijon mustard in the sauce. It was a revelation. The recipe, she explained, was based on Julia Child’s original, and that alone made it utterly fascinating. I’d always admired Julia Child’s approach to cooking – a generous, almost theatrical, way of bringing classic French techniques to an American kitchen. The recipe itself is remarkably comprehensive, going far beyond a simple grilling guide; it’s a veritable bible of grilling and barbecuing knowledge, brimming with techniques and, most importantly, a collection of terrific recipes that would have completely transformed my grilling approach. It wasn’t just about the chicken itself, it was about understanding how to cook it – a concept that, frankly, had eluded me until this point.
Elizabeth explained that the core of the recipe, the sauce, was the real magic. It wasn’t just about adding flavor; it was about creating a glaze that would cling to the chicken, intensifying the taste with every bite. The recipe called for white wine or vermouth – she suggested a dry white, something with a bit of acidity, and a generous dollop of Dijon mustard, which, she emphasized, was key to that distinctive ‘devilish’ flavor. The addition of melted butter and olive oil was intended to create a luscious, emulsified sauce that would coat the chicken beautifully. Then there were the herbs – thyme, of course, but also a subtle kick from cayenne pepper or smoked paprika, depending on your preference. Finally, a handful of chopped scallions added a refreshing note, balancing the richness of the other ingredients. flavor layering – a concept that suddenly made so much sense. It was an incredibly detailed approach, and frankly, it felt a little overwhelming at first. I realized I was used to a more… pragmatic approach to grilling, where the goal was simply to cook the meat through, and seasoning was often a last-minute afterthought. This was different. This was about building flavor from the ground up, carefully considering each component and its impact on the final dish.
Elizabeth’s insistence on ‘indirect heat’ was particularly instructive. She explained that grilling over direct flame would result in burnt exteriors and undercooked interiors. Instead, she recommended placing the chicken thighs bone-side down over indirect heat, allowing the heat to cook the meat slowly and evenly. controlling heat – a critical element for achieving perfectly grilled chicken. She demonstrated how to monitor the heat, adjusting the position of the grill to maintain a consistent temperature. This method, she said, was essential for achieving the desired level of doneness without overcooking the exterior. The process was almost meditative; carefully adjusting the grill, observing the color of the chicken, and patiently waiting for the meat to cook through. It was a far cry from my usual ‘throw it on the grill and hope for the best’ approach. I noted down every detail, scribbling furiously in my notebook to ensure I wouldn’t forget. grilling techniques – it was a truly valuable lesson.
As we cooked, I began to understand why this approach was so effective. It wasn’t just about the ingredients; it was about the technique, the patience, and the attention to detail. It was about appreciating the nuances of flavor and creating a dish that was both delicious and visually appealing. The aroma of the grilling chicken, infused with the scent of herbs, Dijon mustard, and spices, was simply intoxicating. flavor profiles – the scent itself added to the pleasure of the experience. It was a testament to the power of good cooking, and I felt a profound sense of gratitude for Elizabeth’s guidance. The recipe felt like a genuine inheritance, a link to a culinary tradition that valued skill, knowledge, and a deep respect for ingredients. The success of the dish hinged entirely on understanding and applying these principles. It wasn’t just about grilling chicken; it was about mastering a fundamental skill – and one that, I realized, I had been sorely lacking. The addition of the breadcrumbs – a final touch – was a brilliant move, binding the moisture and adding an additional textural layer. The final product, when it came out of the grill, was a beautiful, mahogany-colored masterpiece – a testament to the power of thoughtful cooking. perfectly grilled chicken
Mastering Indirect Heat and Basting Techniques
The core of Elizabeth Karmel’s grilling philosophy, and frankly, the key to truly exceptional grilled chicken, revolves around the concept of indirect heat and meticulous basting. My previous approach, honed from a decidedly Californian perspective – essentially, slapping the chicken on the hottest part of the grill for a quick sear and flip – felt, in retrospect, incredibly rushed and, frankly, resulted in uneven cooking. It’s a technique that prioritizes char and speed, but that doesn’t necessarily translate to flavor or tenderness. Elizabeth’s method, in contrast, is a deliberate dance with temperature, a carefully orchestrated process designed to coax out maximum flavor and ensure the chicken is cooked uniformly, without the harsh, burnt edges that often characterize my grilling attempts.
Indirect heat, as she patiently explained, isn’t about direct flames. Instead, it’s about creating a cooler zone on the grill, typically achieved by pushing the hot burners to one side, or utilizing a drip pan to contain the heat and reduce the direct flame. This allows the chicken to cook slowly and evenly, drawing out moisture and preventing the exterior from overcooking before the interior reaches a safe temperature. It’s a fundamentally slower process, requiring a shift in mindset – a willingness to embrace patience rather than instant gratification. The goal isn’t a beautifully charred crust, but a succulent, deeply flavored bird. Think of it like slow-roasting, but on a grill.
Basting is the engine that drives this process. It’s not just about adding moisture; it’s about infusing the chicken with flavor at every stage. The Dijon mustard and white wine-based sauce, a direct descendant of Julia Child’s recipe, serves as a liquid marinade, constantly replenishing the moisture lost during cooking and, more importantly, deeply embedding the sauce’s complex flavors into the meat. Elizabeth stressed the importance of basting frequently – every 10-15 minutes – ensuring the chicken is consistently coated and that the heat is retained. This is where the magic truly happens. The sauce, rich with Dijon, white wine, and herbs, doesn’t just keep the chicken moist; it’s a catalyst for caramelization, subtly enhancing the flavor with each application. It’s a continuous cycle of moisture and flavor building. The slow movement of the heat through the meat helps the flavors to really penetrate, whereas a quick sear only hits the outside of the bird.
Furthermore, the careful monitoring of the cooking temperature is crucial. Elizabeth advocates for utilizing a thermometer to ensure the internal temperature of the chicken reaches a consistent 165°F (74°C). This isn’t about guesswork; it’s about precision. Undercooked chicken, even if visually appealing, is a food safety concern. Precise temperature control, combined with the gradual heat of indirect cooking, yields a consistently tender and safe-to-eat result. The gradual cooking process also gives the proteins time to relax, making for a more tender meat. It’s a stark contrast to my previous approach, where I often relied on visual cues, which can be deceiving, particularly when dealing with different cuts of meat and varying levels of heat.
It’s a technique that demands attention, a deliberate slowing down of the grilling process. It’s a shift from immediate gratification to a more considered approach, one that rewards patience and a willingness to learn. Mastering indirect heat and meticulous basting isn’t just about grilling chicken; it’s about understanding the fundamental principles of heat transfer and moisture retention, skills that translate beautifully to countless other culinary endeavors. The constant basting and careful temperature control elevates the experience from a simple cookout to an art form.
From Slap-It-On-the-Grill to Precision Grilling
Okay, so let’s be frank – my grilling approach had, shall we say, evolved from a fairly aggressive ‘blast it and hope for the best’ strategy. I was accustomed to a quick sear, a flash of intense heat, and then a rapid turnover. The goal was a beautiful char, a robust smoky flavor, and a piece of meat that was cooked through in a relatively short amount of time. It was a fast, somewhat chaotic process. Then I met Elizabeth Karmel, and suddenly, everything shifted.
Elizabeth’s method, particularly concerning indirect heat, felt…counterintuitive at first. The concept of letting the heat around the meat, rather than on it, seemed almost lazy. But she kept hammering home the importance of controlling the temperature and maintaining a consistent basting. ‘You want to coax the flavors out, not brute-force them,’ she’d say, and I started to see the logic. Essentially, you’re creating a gentle, even cooking environment, preventing the exterior from burning before the interior is fully cooked. It’s a massive difference in approach, and one that dramatically influences the final texture and flavor of the chicken.
This isn’t about achieving a single, defined sear. Instead, it’s about building layers of flavor and moisture. The frequent basting isn’t just about keeping the chicken from drying out; it’s about infusing it with the rich, deeply flavored sauce – a combination of white wine, mustard, butter, and herbs. This constant interaction between the meat and the sauce encourages a more tender, succulent result. You’re essentially creating a self-basting system, which is far more efficient and delivers a far more consistently delicious outcome.
Think of it like this: the intense, direct heat is for the initial ‘wow’ factor – the immediate visual appeal. But the indirect heat is what truly elevates the dish. It’s a slower, more deliberate process, requiring patience and attention, but the rewards are substantial. This method also minimizes the chances of overcooking, a common pitfall when relying solely on direct heat. By carefully monitoring the temperature and adjusting the cooking time, you can achieve a perfectly cooked chicken – tender, juicy, and brimming with flavor. It’s a far cry from the frantic, sometimes haphazard, approach I had previously adopted. It’s a testament to the fact that sometimes, the most impressive results come from a little bit of restraint and a willingness to embrace a different technique. It’s a lesson about precision, not just in the act of grilling, but in understanding the fundamental principles of heat and cooking.
The Role of Silicone Brushes and Cross-Contamination
I’d met Elizabeth years ago at a culinary conference and she’d given me a silicone basting and grilling brush – something I’d been wary of, seeing them as gimmicks and gadgets. I’d put it away in a drawer and didn’t pick it up until years later, when I was tired of picking out errant bristles from brushing the tops of pie dough with egg wash, which if I didn’t find and remove, would prompt guests to suggest that I wear a hair net next time that I cooked for them. Silicone Brushes – I truly believed they were a ridiculous extravagance. But after a while, I started to realize that my current method of brushing dough with egg wash was messy and inefficient, and I wasn’t particularly concerned with the bits of burnt pastry clinging to the bristles. I’d had a bit of trouble for a long time finding a brush that wouldn’t leave a residue. I was wary of gadgets like that, but I recognized that I’d been stubbornly clinging to my old, inefficient methods.
But it wasn’t just about brushing pastry; the issue of cross-contamination had begun to weigh on my mind. I’m a very particular person when it comes to culinary hygiene, and my past experiences with stray pastry dust and lingering herb fragments fueled a growing concern. Cross-Contamination – I wanted to ensure I wasn’t inadvertently transferring flavors or ingredients between different food items, especially when dealing with delicate sauces or spice blends. The kitchen is a battlefield for ingredients. My old techniques didn’t seem nearly as diligent as I needed them to be. It really became a point of anxiety for me. I realized that my relaxed approach to brushing with egg wash was a symptom of a broader issue: a lack of attention to detail and a disregard for proper food safety protocols. I didn’t want guests thinking I was a careless cook.
Elizabeth, with her meticulous approach to cooking, clearly recognized this concern. She explained that using a silicone brush was a far more hygienic way to baste, as it didn’t retain flavors or absorb spices like traditional brushes. The silicone bristles wouldn’t harbor bits of pastry, and they’d be much easier to clean – they’d wash right off, unlike my old brush. It’s a key difference in how one approaches culinary hygiene. Hygiene in the Kitchen – She emphasized that cleaning up properly and regularly was paramount, regardless of the tools you were using. A clean kitchen is a safe kitchen. She made the point that I didn’t have to worry about leftover residue and that the brush was also a cleaner way to baste. She also noted that it was important to wipe down the brush regularly, to maintain the level of cleanliness, not just to use it and hope for the best. She was acutely aware of the potential for cross-contamination from dirty brushes. This was a fundamental shift in my thinking about kitchen tools. I’d been so focused on the result of the basting – a glistening, flavorful chicken – that I hadn’t considered the process’s potential pitfalls. It wasn’t just about the brushing itself; it was about the entire workflow and the tools used to facilitate it. I’d been so stubborn in my ways, refusing to let go of what was familiar. It seemed silly to be worried about something so small, but I soon realized that the small details matter in the kitchen. I started to appreciate the value of having the right tools for the job, and the importance of maintaining a clean and organized workspace. Ultimately, this realization extended far beyond just brushing pie dough; it represented a broader commitment to thoughtful, hygienic cooking. I’d previously been careless about my tools. I now understood the importance of being careful and meticulous with even the smallest of things. I was truly grateful to Elizabeth for teaching me such a valuable lesson.
A Franco-American Culinary Alliance
The connection between French and American grilling extends far beyond simply cooking meat over heat – it’s a deeply rooted conversation about technique, patience, and appreciating the nuances of flavor. Elizabeth Karmel, with her background in French cuisine and her experience consulting on Hill Country Barbecue, perfectly embodies this alliance. It’s not about blindly following a recipe; it’s about understanding why certain steps are taken and adapting them to your own grilling style. As she explained, the ‘diable’ in the Poulet grillé à la diable – the devil – isn’t about adding a scorching level of heat, but rather a careful balance of flavors, a hint of spice, primarily achieved through the rich Dijon mustard, and the careful layering of savory notes. This mirrors a broader approach to grilling, one that values meticulousness and restraint, something often lost in the American enthusiasm for a quick char.
This alliance also highlights the importance of indirect heat, a technique that was completely foreign to my ‘slap it on the grill’ approach. Elizabeth’s insistence on using the grill’s cooler areas, shielded from direct flames, allowed the chicken to cook slowly and evenly, basting beautifully with the complex mustard sauce – a tactic that imparted a profoundly deeper, more developed flavor than a rapid, high-heat grilling would have achieved. It’s a principle often overlooked when grilling, a testament to how much flavor is dependent on time and temperature. It’s a lesson in restraint, mirroring the French emphasis on letting ingredients speak for themselves, rather than overpowering them with excessive heat.
Moreover, the utilization of silicone brushes – a seemingly minor detail – reflects a commitment to hygiene and careful technique. Elizabeth’s concern about cross-contamination underscores a culinary philosophy that extends beyond merely taste. Cleanliness and precision are integral to achieving consistent results, and the thoughtful selection of tools – like her silicone brushes – demonstrates a serious dedication to food preparation. This commitment to attention to detail—keeping things pristine—connects back to French gastronomy, where everything is regarded with the utmost respect. The deliberate brushing process isn’t just about applying sauce; it’s about maintaining a level of control and maintaining a respect for the food.
Ultimately, this Franco-American culinary alliance represents a fusion of traditions. It’s about embracing the passion and boldness of American grilling, tempered by the French commitment to quality, patience, and a deep understanding of how flavors develop over time. It’s not simply about grilling chicken; it’s about learning a deeper approach to food, acknowledging the value of expertise, and celebrating the delicious harmony that emerges when these two culinary worlds collide. It’s a powerful reminder that great food is born not just from ingredients, but from the wisdom and technique of those who prepare it – a lesson I gratefully learned from Elizabeth Karmel, and one that I will undoubtedly carry forward in my own grilling adventures. The final outcome represents a delicious synthesis – a testament to the fact that culinary innovation can arise from a thoughtful blending of seemingly disparate traditions, resulting in a truly exceptional experience for the palate.
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